Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea > This page
Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 42 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FORTY TWO. Ours appeared to be a herculean task, for the fire had been burning many hours now, as after a little examination Mr Brymer decided that it would be best to attack it from the starboard side, where a bold man could approach the worst part and pour in water from buckets if the hose from the pump could not be brought to bear. As I looked down into the blackened hold, surrounded by the jagged planks of the deck, which had been splintered and torn in the most wonderful way, the place looked to me like what I had always imagined a volcano to be. This was very small, of course; but there was the glowing centre, from which arose a column of smoke towering and curling up for some distance, and then spreading out like a tree. The glow of the smouldering fire could be seen, but with the sun now shining brilliantly its appearance was anything but terrible, the greater light completely dimming the lesser; but as I stepped out on to the beam from which the planks had been torn by the explosion, I was made fully aware of the danger being great, for a peculiar dizziness suddenly seized me, and I was caught by the collar and dragged back to the strip of ragged deck on the starboard side. "None o' them games, Mr Dale, sir," said a gruff voice in my ear, as I clung to the bulwark, and a cold perspiration gathered on my forehead. "Anything the matter?" cried Mr Brymer. "Not much, sir," growled the sailor; "on'y Mr Dale, here, trying to dive down into the hold to look for the fire." "Why, Dale!" cried Mr Brymer, hurrying up from where he had been forward examining the hose left by the mutineers after their feeble attempt to extinguish the fire, "did the fumes attack you?" "Yes," I said faintly, as I pressed my hands over my forehead; "I suppose it was that." "Some'at queer burning below, sir," growled Bob Hampton. "Or the gas from the combustion," said the mate, leading me a little more from the part where the smoke arose. "Pretty nigh combusted him, sir, if I hadn't got hold on his arm." "Well, it's a warning for us," said Mr Brymer. "Now then, come and pass this hose along." I felt better now, and walked forward to where the pump was rigged, and helped to drag the hose along the narrow path beneath, the bulwarks to where Neb Dumlow was now stationed with the brass nozzle at the end of the canvas tube, and Mr Brymer instructed him how to direct the stream of water as soon as the pump was started. "Better let me pump, sir," he grumbled. "I understands that a deal better." "I set you to this, man, because of your wound. You are not fit to take your turn at the pump." "Well, I like that, sir. It makes me mut'nous, it do. Why, you wants all the strength yonder to take spells in pumping," grumbled Dumlow; "wants men, don't yer, while this here's boy's work, or might be done by the gal. A baby could handle this squirt." "If you can pump, for goodness' sake go forward, and don't talk now," cried Mr Brymer, impatiently. "Here, Dale, is that sickness gone off?" "Oh, yes," I cried eagerly. "Take the branch, then, and direct the stream. Right down, mind, where the glow rises. As he says, we want all our strength there, and you can serve us better here." I seized the brass nozzle and held it ready. "Be careful," cried Mr Brymer. "Keep back so that the fumes don't overcome you, and call out if you want help." I nodded, and he hurried forward, while as I stood there in the hot sunshine waiting for the water to come, I directed the nozzle so as to strike one particular part of the smouldering ruins just beside where the great spiral of smoke rose up. The next minute clink-clank came the strokes of the double-handled pump, invisible to me, for it was on the far side of the smoke which rose from the forward part of the deck. But no water came, and after a minute or two I heard them talking loudly, and the clanking ceased. Then came the splash of a bucket over the side, and though I could see nothing, I could picture the throwing down of that bucket, and the handing of it up with the sparkling of the water as it streamed back; and I knew what the gurgling and splashing meant, as the contents freshly drawn were poured into the top of the pump. Then the clanking began again, and I waited listening to the steady working up and down of the handles, and the strange, gasping, sucking sounds which rose hollowly from the piston. But still no water came, and I listened to the splash of the bucket as the process of filling the big barrel of the pump was repeated. Then clang-clank again, with gurgling, hissing, and splashing; and I felt that the pump must be broken or worn-out. "They will have to take to the buckets," I said half-aloud; and in fancy I saw what a slow, laborious task that would be, and how hopeless it was to imagine that, short-handed as we were, we could cope with that terrible fire steadily eating its way down through the cargo, and which would certainly before long burst forth with uncontrollable fury. "It's all over," I said to myself; and my heart sank once more as I began to think that we ought before long to get back to the boat, and trust to it alone, for although open and comparatively frail, it would not have a terrible enemy on board, insidiously waiting to destroy us. "Oh, how disappointing!" I muttered, as I passed the metal nozzle from my right to my left hand, so as to wipe the perspiration from my face, when all at once there was a quick, throbbing sensation; something ran through my left hand. There was a splash, a hiss, and a cry, and Mr Preddle rushed back into the shelter of the main-mast, from behind which he had suddenly appeared. "Oh, I say, Mr Dale," he shouted, "you shouldn't!" The stream of water had come with a sudden rush, and struck him full in his smooth, plump, round face. I tried to say, "I beg your pardon," but I was choking with laughter and could not speak. But I could act, for I rapidly changed the nozzle back to my right hand, and directed it down at the spot I had selected for my attack, and as the clear, bright jet of water struck the smouldering cargo the effect was startling. That fire might almost have been some fierce, dragon-like monster, suddenly attacked by its most deadly foe, for in an instant there was a savage hiss, followed by a series of crackling explosions, sputtering, popping, and shrieking even. For the steam began to generate and rush up from the hold, instantaneously changing from its natural invisibility to dense white clouds of vapour, which rose and spread, and grew so thick that I could not see where to direct the jet of water, but had to trust to my ear for the spot to attack. "Hurray! hurray!" came faintly from forward, where the pump clanked steadily; and I responded to the cheer, but my voice was stilled by the hissing and shrieking arising from the hold. But I cheered again, and kept on, feeling quite excited, and more and more as if I were attacking a den of dragons, or serpents, so strangely unusual were the noises which followed every fresh direction of the stream. "I say, Dale, you shouldn't, you know," came from close by me, in a tone full of protest; and I quite started to see Mr Preddle's face looming out of the mist in which I was closely enveloped, and which grew more and more dense each minute. "I didn't do it on purpose," I shouted. "Oh, don't say that, Dale," he cried back, the voice sounding very peculiar through the hissing and shrieking of the steam. "I am quite ready to forgive you, my dear boy." "But I didn't really," I yelled. "Oh, Dale, don't--don't! Why, I saw you take aim at me with that thing across this dreadful gap." "I--can't talk--now," I shouted. Then, contradicting myself,--"Going to help pump?" "Yes; but what a fearful noise!--and you have made me so wet." "How are you getting on?" shouted Mr Frewen. "That's right." I could not see him for the steam; but his voice came from the other side of the deck, and I must have altered the direction of the jet a little, for a fresh series of explosions arose to prove how much more serious the hidden fire was than we could judge it to be from what was visible. Crick, crack, sputter, and then report after report, as loud as those made by a revolver, while each steam-shot was followed by a ball of white vapour which came rushing up as from the mouth of a gun. "Hurrah!" came from by the pump again, and Mr Preddle came slowly along to pass me and get forward. "I suppose I can get by you," he said. "No, no; don't try it," I cried excitedly. "I must not stir, and there is so little room. Go back and round with Mr Frewen." "No, no; I daren't." "The fire isn't there," I said, as the screaming and hissing were louder than ever. "I'm not so much afraid of the fire as I am of the water," cried Mr Preddle. "You want to squirt me again." I couldn't say "I don't," for his words tickled and yet annoyed me, so that I felt that I really did want to deluge him with the water from head to foot. "Will you promise me not to squirt if I go that way?" he shouted. "Honour--bright," I yelled. "Couldn't see you." That was a fact, for from cut of the hold, and spreading all over the ship, the dense white fumes hid everything; and though Mr Preddle was now only about a yard away, I could not see anything but a dim, blurred patch; while facing me a dull, luminous disk all blurred and hidden from time to time showed where the sun was dealing his slanting beams. "Well, I'm going to trust you," said Mr Preddle, "and I beg you will not do it again." "All right," I shouted; and the next minute I felt that I was alone to carry on the war against the enemy below. "How stupid of him to think that!" I said aloud, with a laugh. "I don't see anything stupid. It was stupid of you to play tricks at such a time," said Mr Preddle. "Why I thought you were gone," I shouted. "No; I waited to see whether you were going to keep your word," he replied; and then I heard no more till Mr Brymer shouted-- "Want any help, Dale?" "No, sir." "Steam too much for you?" "No, sir; all right. I'll call if I want help." The pump clanked steadily on, and without any more than a half-stoppage as they made a change for resting, and I kept on searching out the hottest places by following up the loudest hissing and sputtering of the water as it changed into steam, and rose and floated upward till I thought that if the mutineers were able to see it, they would conclude that the ship was burning right away to the water's edge, for the steam, as it floated up in that huge volume, would have all the appearance of smoke. Then I started, for from close behind me came Mr Brymer's voice-- "How are you getting on, my lad?" "I don't know; I can't see." "No, but I can. Capitally," he cried. "There must be a tremendous body of fire down below; far more than I thought." "But is there any fear of our pumping too much down and sinking the ship after all?" Mr Brymer burst into a cheery laugh. "I don't think we should sink her by our pumping, Dale. We should get tired first, I'm afraid. Why, my good lad, I don't know whether my calculation is right, but I should say that half the water you send down there must float up again in steam." "Think so, sir?" I shouted, altering the direction of the jet a little, and feeling startled at the consequences, for the shrieking and hissing which followed became deafening. "I'm sure," shouted my companion. "Quite below in my calculation. You can keep on, can't you?" "Oh yes," I said. "That's right. I couldn't do it better. Go on; every drop's telling in extinguishing the fire, or wetting other parts of the cargo so that they will not burn. But what a fiery furnace it is! I had no idea it was so bad." "Do you think--" I began. "Yes--what?" "That it has burned through to the ship's bottom?" "No; and it will not now," he shouted. "There is so much heat there that an immense body of steam must be rising, and that will help to extinguish the fire." "Then I am doing some good, sir?" "Good? Yes; you are winning the fight. I must get back now, and relieve Mr Preddle. I left him and the doctor pumping." I did not hear him go, but when I spoke again there was no answer, and I devoted all my energy to my task, though it had become so monotonous that my thoughts began to stray, and I found myself wondering how matters were going in the cabin--whether they were very much alarmed by the noise of the steam, or whether they felt as confident as the mate did about our ultimate mastery of the fire, and how Walters and Mr Denning were. Just then a gruff, familiar voice came out of the steam behind me. "Mr Brymer's orders, sir, as you're to hand me the nozzle, and go aft and get a refresher. Says you must be choked enough." "Did he order me to go, Bob?" I said. "That's it, sir. Give's hold." I handed the nozzle. "Talk about a fog," he cried; "this is a wunner. I say, Mr Dale." "Yes." "Sounds like something good being cooked, don't it? I s'pose there'll be a bit o' something to eat soon. I'm growing streaky, and could eat anything, from biscuit up to bull-beef. Well, what's the matter?" he cried, as a fiercer shrieking came along with clouds of vapour. "That go in the wrong place? Well, will that do?" He shifted the direction of the nozzle, but the noise was as bad as ever. "Well, you are hard to please, and you'll have to take it now as I like to give it you, so off you go, my lad." "All right, Bob," I replied; "I'm going," and saturated with the moisture of my strange vapour-bath, I went along the narrow passage by the bulwarks, to find to my astonishment that I had walked out of a dense fog into the clear sunshine; and when I looked back, it was to see the white vapour towering up as if to reach the skies. _ |
||